


Anomaly (Undersoul AU)

by Emberrassed



Category: Undertale
Genre: Might think of a better name, Other, Sans and Frisk are a weird ship, Undersoul, i don't know yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberrassed/pseuds/Emberrassed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk didn't know how they got there, or where they were going, but they were determined to press on.<br/>They could do it for them - their new friends. The one that was always with them, and the one that soon would be, just as before.<br/>They just needed to keep pressing on to the surface - ignore the voices and nagging feelings and confront Asgore. That was all they needed to get out of this new home they'd landed in.</p><p>Frisk couldn't remember having ever been so wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anomaly (Undersoul AU)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is Ember. This'll be my first Undertale fic and my first work here on Ao3 so I hope you enjoy c;  
> My tumblr is emberassed.tumblr.com if you have any questions of you want to see the massive piles of reblogs I stack up because boy there are a lot of things to reblog.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! This AU is currently called Undersoul, though I may change it later on as I see fit.
> 
> OH. And please point out if I screw up on pronouns. I see Frisk mostly as a really tomboyish girl when I picture them, but I'm writing them in as androgynous so if you see an accidental she/her feel free to call me out on it. I checked the best I could ;^;

At first, they didn't bother to open their eyes. Despite the unknown they were clearly able to open their eyes and confront, they kept them glued shut. Instead, they let their other senses take hold. They felt safe, wrapped in something warm and soft – _a jacket_ \- they deduced. For now, that was enough.

Warmth from the light that bathed their face made them smile, despite how it rudely interrupted the peaceful darkness their eyelids offered them. There were a few small splashes on their cheek - raindrops - that made them flinch in surprise, nearly opening their eyes. They heard the excited, far-off melody of birdsong somewhere above them. _They must be seeking shelter from the imminent downpour_ , Frisk thought. Something prickly – maybe grass - brushed against their hands and cheeks and legs, tickling softly. The fragrance of flowers and rain enveloped Frisk delicately, occupying their senses. They thought they could lie there forever . . . if it weren't for the thoughts that gathered in the back of their mind.

Like some itch that they couldn't reach, the thoughts buzzed urgently. Frisk had no idea what they wanted from them. They couldn't remember. Their thoughts were fragmented - parts of a greater whole that Frisk grasped desperately at, but to no avail. Whether it was some memory or task they’d forgotten, it frustrated them greatly. They were held in suspense, always wondering; always wondering. Frisk willed them to stop with all the strength they could muster, but their request wasn’t heeded. 

With the additional pain from the thoughts that climbed in volume by the second, Frisk let themself notice all of the feelings they had ignored. They were hurting. They were hurting badly, and the pain was localized to what seemed like two major areas: their left leg and their right wrist. Frisk hoped that the pain was only temporary, because it made their entire body ache and shriek in protest when they shifted, even slightly. If it hadn't been for the thoughts shouting for them to get up, find a way out, find out where they were, find out _who_ they were, and more, they would have stayed there. But the rain was beginning to soak their sweater and jacket, and the pain from the mental shouting was beginning to get so intense that it blocked out the physical pain. 

Frisk's eyes snapped open. Immediate regret filled them as their pupils contracted, blinded by the piercing light from above them. They let out a small hiss of discomfort, quickly moving to block the sun with their arm. Since they were right handed, they obviously tried to block the light with their right arm. Of course, Frisk's right wrist was injured, so it fell back almost immediately and they groaned. Bad idea. They brought up their left arm instead, which ached plenty, but yielded no sharp pain like their wrist had. Much to their satisfaction, the shrieking thoughts were subdued slightly by the new sense - sight - and they were able to ignore it more effectively. 

When Frisk's eyes focused, they gave a content sigh of relief. The sun was out of their eyes, blocked by something blue. The sleeve of their jacket, a bit bigger than what would have suited them, shrugged down to reveal a familiar purple and cerulean fabric. It was their favourite sweater. It was something that they remembered, despite all of the clouds that shrouded their memory. They had something to hold onto. Unease still filled them shortly afterwards, though, when their left sleeve fell back as well, revealing large purple and blue splotches that adorned their tanned skin. Bruises that were darker than they'd ever imagined having left kisses on their wrists and elbows and forearms. They probably went up their shoulder, and maybe their stomach and legs. Frisk didn't want to find out. They hurt enough as it is when they couldn't be seen.

Frisk pushed themselves up with one arm, quickly, letting out a cry of pain as their back straightened out. Tendrils of pain shot up their spine, and their right arm hung limp to minimize movement. They took a look around. . .

And was amazed. Huge white, fluted columns surrounded them in a large circle, extending all the way to the roof of the cave they'd found themself in. They seemed to act as support for the unstable roof with a gaping hole in the center of it. Vines clung to their marble surfaces, a startling green against a weathered white. Through this hole, Frisk could see the rays of sunshine giving way to swirling mist and cloudy skies. The mist hung between the over world and underground, as if suspended by time. Still, small drops of rain pierced its thin sheet, the cold water beginning to dampen Frisk's hair and sweater. Some drops were caught among the fur along the hood of their jacket, rolling off when they became too heavy. The smell of rain permeated the air pleasantly, and Frisk took a moment to take a deep breath in. 

There was an exit on the Far East side. Frisk didn't know why they hadn't noticed it sooner, but they had actually been enjoying themselves in their new surroundings. They still had no idea how they'd gotten there, but they and their thoughts could ponder that later. Frisk was sure, at least, that the thoughts would. They shifted uneasily in the back of Frisk's mind, reduced to little outbursts and soft, mumbled whispers that were subdued in number.

Quiet as they might be, they still had a hold of Frisk. They felt undeniably trapped staying here, however peaceful it was. They needed to get out, _out_ , _out_. They didn't belong here in this beautiful place, laying in the blooming bed of golden flowers, staring at the dark purple cavern's walls in wonder. No, they needed to get back to the surface. They had to have fell in, right? 

Frisk glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, letting the rain drops fall on their face. They made no move to brush them away, and their bangs clung to their face, drenched. They belonged up there . . . right? Did they even have a home?

With a little sigh, they composed themself.

 _Stay determined_ , the thoughts insisted.

They pulled the blue jacket tighter around themself.

 _Don't give up!_ they urged Frisk.

As if they were real, Frisk gave a curt nod, acknowledging the need to escape. _It's time to go_ they agreed. The thoughts lulled into near silence as Frisk moved to gingerly stand up. They made sure to lean their weight on their right leg, the uninjured one, and push off with their left arm. They felt vaguely bad for the flowers that they crushed beneath their hands, unable to find a flower-free spot to push off from. If anything, they'd crushed more by falling. This didn't make them feel better, though.

Half-way standing, Frisk paused. There was a noise. They turned their head in alarm, trying to locate where it was coming from. Like the voices that urged her to move on, it was faint - nothing but a whisper. 

Frisk scanned the cave again. The only place that stood out seemed to be the middle of the cave, right under the hole in the ceiling, where the golden patch of flowers seemed to thrive and grow in abundance. They covered the entire floor beneath the opening, mirroring its shape and size perfectly. They must only get the sunlight and rain necessary to live from that spot, though Frisk didn't know how they existed in such a great number this far underground. 

They felt the thoughts tugging after another memory, something red and yellow and blue and green, and something living. Disappointment when the colours faded and wilted; Pleasure and satisfaction when they grew brighter and thrived. But these blossoms lacked the vivid colours Frisk recalled from a blurry memory. All of them waved and danced in golden dress. Just as they began to wish that they were _any_ other colour than yellow, they heard the whisper again. 

Spinning around the best they could, Frisk spotted something unusual among the flower bed and almost laughed out loud at the coincidence. Here they were, wishing for a red or a pink flower, and they'd missed the only one that was different. A flash of blue among all of the gold.

Hidden slightly beneath the others, a small bloom seemed to glow with cyan light, making up for its half-folded petals. Unlike the rest of the flowers, it was farther behind in its blooming, and significantly smaller in size. 

Frisk cupped the little bloom in between her hands, reveling in its pretty glowing. It may have been the smallest and weakest, but it was by far the most beautiful. They hummed through the silence, framed by the soft sound of drops hitting petals. The birds were long gone by now, somewhere in their homes above. Frisk wondered briefly if they had a home, but was interrupted.

"H-Hello?" a quiet sigh asked from below.

Frisk looked down in disbelief at the little flower. Its light got a little brighter as it whispered words to them. Strange and unknown as it was, Frisk felt relief. They weren't alone down here, lost by themself.

"Is. . . Is someone there?" it asked timidly. "Please talk to me?" 

Frisk brushed a rain drop from one of its outer petals and hummed a response. Yes, they were here, and they were so glad that the little bud was, as well. 

"Who are you?" the flower asked. "You. . . You aren't the usual lady that visits the flowers."

Frisk made a mental note to ask about the lady later. They sat back down, crossing their legs the best they could. They could conceal a yelp of pain, though, and it seemed to startle the flower. It seemed to repeat her own yelp back, as if in surprise, instead. But, it was still Frisk's voice.

"A-Are you alright?" it inquired. It seemed worried, but Frisk couldn't quite tell. Its voice, emitting from the center of the bloom, seemed to be devoid of emotion or tone, but they felt that it was trying. 

"I'm fine," they assured the flower, smiling. They would live. They could push through the pain. It was nothing compared to their determination to get out of here alive; they had to get to the surface. The thoughts seemed to shout their agreement. 

"By the way, my name's Frisk," they told the flower. Among memories of red and white flowers, blue and purple sweaters, and vague images they could not piece together, they had managed to remember their name quite clearly.

"Thank you," the bud told them. It tried its best to sound sincere.

"For what?" Frisk asked, tilting their head to the side a little.

"For talking to me," it responded. Frisk left the comment to ring out in the silence, brushing more drops off the petals. It must have been so lonely out here. They had a feeling that none of the other flowers talked, let alone to the little, half-bloomed bud. "I'm not alone, now."

The words brought a smile to Frisk's face. Despite how odd it was that they were talking to something that they could never remember having the ability to respond, they were glad that they could make it feel happy. The light of the bud was still glowing brighter, slowly but surely.

Frisk graced the flower with yet another smile when it began to hum. It seemed like it had taken Frisk's own voice and repeated it, messing with the pitch and the speed as it went. 

Above them, the sun was barely visible, and the sunlight was running out. Frisk looked down to find their shadow had extended over the bloom, casting it in darkness. It glowed even brighter. Then, they noticed that their shadow was twisting, bending, and moving against all reason. Frisk backed away slightly as it writhed with the rhythm of the humming from the bud. It seemed to take shape and form. The glowing from the flower cast enough light on it to make out a phantom of a face. It smiled at Frisk widely.

"How are you doing that?" Frisk asked shakily, still trying to keep a bit of distance from their own shadow. It was still tethered to them by thin lines of shadows connected to their own feet, but it seemed to have a mind of its own.

"Down here," the flower hummed, "We're able to tap into a bit of magic. It's kind of the norm, so don't be afraid. People will more likely find it strange that you can't use it."

Frisk relaxed a little, relieved that the shadow was indeed caused by her new friend. 

The shadow looked around and reached down, attempting to grasp one of the golden flowers among the flower bed. Its hand phased through it, though, and it was left grasping at nothing. Frisk could sense its disappointment before it voiced it.

"I expected as much," it told them. It let out a small, half-hearted laugh. "No matter how I try, I can never make a difference to anything around me. I'm too weak."

Frisk frowned at the shadow, put down by its negativity. They plucked the flower their shadow had reached for and plucked it from its place. Then, they plucked another one, and another one. Using the stems, they weaved them together, feeling the action was vaguely familiar. Maybe they had done this often - in the world above them. 

Humming, they assembled a flower crown slowly, but surely. When it was thoroughly weaved together and full of little blossoms of gold, Frisk moved to try to place it on the shadow's head. As expected, though, it fell right through them. They were their shadow, after all. Simply a lack of light voiced by a half-bloomed flower. The shadow offered a little giggle at Frisk, appreciating the thought behind the act, even if it hadn't worked out. 

"That's okay," Frisk said, letting out a little sigh of disappointment. "I'll just have to wear it for you."

They gingerly placed the ring of flowers in their hair with a grin at the shadow. This time, its laugh was louder and it seemed to enjoy itself. 

"You're funny, Frisk," it said to them. It seemed to whisper something to itself, dejected, but Frisk wasn't able to catch it.

The shadow reached out to them, taking Frisk's hands in its own. It moved to cup them around the bud again, which was glowing intensely. 

"Frisk?" the shadow asked, looking up at them. It seemed to mimic a smile, forming it using an absence of shadow in the shape of a crescent. Though it didn't really look natural as much as it looked like it was trying too hard, Frisk appreciated its attempt to show emotion. "I know we just met, but you're the only person I've ever talked to since I could remember. . ."

Frisk nodded in agreement, knowing the feeling all too well. They were sure they'd talked to others, probably on the surface, but they could not recall despite trying their hardest. Its smile got smaller, though, and it seemed to hesitate before continuing.

"Is it alright if I asked you for a favour?" 

They found themself nodding almost immediately, like it was clearly the most rational option. Looking back on it, they probably should have thought it out more thoroughly before blindly agreeing, but they wanted to make the lonely little flower happy. So, they agreed.

The shadow wrapped her hand around the stem of the blue bud, motioning for them to pull up. Carefully, Frisk pulled the bud from the ground, stems and all. It came out cleanly, to their surprise. Even more surprising, though, was the light pink light that shone at them vibrantly from among the roots of the flower.

"Will you take me with you?" the shadow asked through the flower.

It didn't really wait for an answer, but Frisk would have said yes anyways. Maybe they were too trusting, but they wanted the bud to be happy, and taking it with them couldn't hurt, could it? They found their left hand being guided towards the little light until it was beneath it. It seemed to anchor itself to their hand, and Frisk was able to make out a small, white heart. 

"The truth is, I'm only a shadow of what I used to be. I can't leave this place without someone's help."

Upon holding it, Frisk felt a fluttering presence. It felt warm and friendly and just as aware as they were, but it also felt unbelievably frail and dim to them. The shadow pushed Frisk's hand towards themself, and pressed it to their chest, beneath their collarbone.

Frisk hugged the heart to themself closely, determined to protect it. Their skin seemed to shimmer and gain a sort of transparency and the little heart passed through. Warmth sprouted from their chest and they felt the presence of another being's thoughts press against their own. Their shadow melted back into what it was meant to be - themself - and Frisk stood up with both a sincere smile and a sigh of relief.

 _I'm not alone_ , the voice said in honest relief.

"You're safe," Frisk sighed.

Frisk held out their hand in front of them, observing themself. There was nothing physically different, but they felt the feelings of another, and could sense the thought track of the other. Their personalities, secrets, and memories merged and they noted each detail, content with the knowledge of the other - completely and thoroughly. Never had Frisk ever felt this close to anyone before. Nothing went unknown to the other. They didn't try to hide anything.

Frisk felt all of the days passing. Waiting for someone. Waiting for something. The drops of rain over the days and weeks, only having their own blooming to wait for. Occasionally they noticed another person come by. A woman, with white hair and horns, kindhearted and sad. Neither knew what she wanted or why she visited, but they had welcomed it. She left gifts: pie, familiar clothing (though the flower couldn't remember why it was familiar), and read aloud ridiculous books, most about snails. Someone was better than no one. 

They felt the sun’s rays filling them with life and energy. The wind swaying the bud this way and that, only welcome at a rather low intensity. Preferably. Frisk giggled at that comment and felt the other presence flush with embarrassment. 

_Life is different as a flower!_ they insisted, trying to justify the indignity towards the elements in their memories. Their petals would get thrown this way and that, and they would pray for it to stop.

"I know, you don't have much control," Frisk completed their thought, making a point by doing so. They already knew what they were thinking and what they were going to say. They figured they had more of a sense of humour than their new friend.

The other presence bristled at the comment, taking it as an insult before Frisk burst out laughing. 

"You're funny," they told the voice. It calmed down and gave a sigh before giving a little laugh themself. Frisk thought they would have smiled if they could. So they smiled for them, humming all the while. 

"Shall we?" they asked, taking a step towards the door. Frisk felt them agree before stopping abruptly. It was odd, feeling confusion at their actions from the other presence, but knowing fully well what they were doing before the other realized it. 

They looked down at the blue flower they held in their hand. To their surprise (and satisfaction) they discovered that it had finished blooming, though its glow was gone. They smiled and took the crown from off their head. Without a pause, they wove it expertly into the bunch, its beautiful hue standing out brilliantly against the rest. Content, it was dispensed back on their head and they were off, taking eager steps towards the dark exit. 

Frisk felt their friend giggle at their silliness before hesitating.

_Frisk?_

"Hmm?"

_My name is Chara._

Frisk smiled wide, their happiness consuming both of them out of its sheer magnitude, surprising Chara. She had no idea they had the ability to change their emotions, even if her soul was so small in comparison to Frisk's.

"Nice to meet you, Chara."

If she could smile, Chara would have.


End file.
